


ever yours

by ratbandaid



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, Fluff and Humor, Inspired by Eros and Psyche (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, No Beta, One Shot, Suicide Attempt, felix and sylvain are kind of ooc but i had to try to fit them into the au somehow;;, ish?? but it's better to be safe than sorry!!, misunderstandings and trust issues, slight angst, slightly ooc for like everyone ;;, twin byleths!! twin byleths!!, written for sylvain week!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24568309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratbandaid/pseuds/ratbandaid
Summary: Long, long ago, there lived a fair prince named Sylvain, the younger of the Gautier siblings, and he known as the most charming man all throughout the land. He had a smile that made maidens swoon; he had a voice that made birds silent in awe and allurement; he had a coveted life, one where he was pampered and thoroughly praised by seemingly everyone, that made the gods burn with envy.Well, not all gods. Just one in particular._____An Eros and Psyche AU written for day 6 of Sylvain Week 2020!
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39
Collections: Sylvain Week 2020!





	ever yours

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back on my Greek mythology bullshit baybee!! I'm a little bit late to Day 6, though. ^^;;
> 
> Small disclaimer: I'm not an expert in Greek mythology at all! I checked a bunch of different sources for this story, but the stories all differed slightly. I did my best though! (•̀o•́)ง ~~Also, I hope that my characterization choices for some of the people (like Lorenz) isn't too off! I had to tweak a few things to make things match, and I don't really write many characters other than Sylvain and Felix.~~

Long, long ago, there lived a fair prince named Sylvain, the younger of the Gautier siblings, and he was known as the most charming man all throughout the land. He had a smile that made maidens swoon; he had a voice that made birds silent in awe and allurement; he had a coveted life, one where he was pampered and thoroughly praised by seemingly everyone, that made the gods burn with envy.

Well, not all gods. Just one in particular.

The news of an exceptionally fair prince with looks that attracted suitors from all over the world had reached Mount Olympus, especially when it came out that Sylvain had been turning down all of his suitors’ offers of marriage despite his age and the fact that the first heir of the Gautier family had been disowned just a few years prior. His father was growing impatient as he aged each year, waiting for his son to take his throne, but Sylvain seemed adamant on picking a suitor on his own terms.

But Lorenz, god of nobility and love, had already known all of this. After all, he’d seen the dwindling numbers of people attending his temples. He’d seen the way that women and men alike seemed to now worship the mortal prince, rather than a literal god. As ignoble as it was, Lorenz couldn’t help the burning jealousy in his chest.

As a result, he enlisted the help of his acquaintance, Felix, god of passion. Though they weren’t particularly the closest friends, throughout the centuries, Felix found himself owing Lorenz a favor. And Felix, being Felix, never half-assed anything. Perfect. Lorenz began hatching a plan in his head.

When Felix is summoned to his temple, wearing that habitual scowl with his arms crossed, Lorenz already knows what he wants.

“What do you want?” Felix tapped his fingers against his bicep. “I’m a very busy god, Lorenz. You know that.”

“Ah, you’re here!” Lorenz hopped off his throne and descended the steps to meet Felix face-to-face. He smiled at him. “Good. You do remember that you are indebted to me, yes?”

Felix just stared at him, unamused.

Lorenz cleared his throat. “I will take your silence as assent.” Lorenz flipped his long, purple hair over his shoulder. “I need your help. There is this mortal—Sylvain, Sylvain Gautier— causing me great vexation, and I’d like for you to—”

“Alright. I’ll get rid of him. And then we’ll be even.” Felix turned to leave through the doors he had just come from, one hand going to rest on the hilt of his sword. Lorenz, midway through sentence, rushed forward and slammed his hand the doors, shutting them before Felix could leave.

"W-wait! Let me finish my request!” Lorenz huffed. “I do _not_ wish death upon this man!”

Felix heaved a heavy sigh before flicking Lorenz a look teeming with ire. “Why not? If he’s a pain, just get rid of him.”

Lorenz briskly shook his head. “No! That is terribly ignoble.” He waited a beat. “That, and I believe you do not have the authority to simply take lives, Felix.”

“I wasn’t going to kill him.” At Lorenz’s flat look, Felix rolled his eyes and canted a hand on his hip. “Just spit it out. What do you want me to do?”

Lorenz held out his hands. In his palm, a vial of a red potion materialized. Felix took the potion carefully, eyeing it as Lorenz began to explain his plan.

-

In the middle of the night, in the Gautier territory, a god cloaked in invisibility snuck into the Gautieron palace. Felix kept his large wings folded neatly against his back after he’d descended from the heavens and into the room of the prince, who was fast asleep.

Felix wrinkled his nose as he looked around the dark room, illuminated solely by the moonlight slipping through the window. It was clear that there were many gifts adorning the room, ranging from exceptionally forged weapons and vases to a vast array of clothes tailored to perfection by the best in the world.

Lorenz had explained that Felix was to poison Sylvain—it wasn’t so much a poison as it was a potion to ward off suitors and restore Lorenz’s temples to being filled with worshippers and offerings—while he slept. To quote Lorenz, after being doused in the potion, Sylvain would fall in love with “the most miserable creature living, the most crooked and vile soul, that there may be none found in all the world of like wretchedness.” If what Felix parsed from Lorenz’s needlessly flowery language was correct, he would ruin this prince’s love life quite drastically and leave him miserable.

It wasn’t the bravest method to take care of an issue, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that Lorenz could have thought of, considering how much emphasis he put on that maddening nobility of his.

Felix stepped towards the bed of the sleeping prince and began to uncap the vial of poison. Just as he lifted his hand to douse the prince in the potion, Sylvain turned over in his sleep with a small sigh. Felix, surprised, stumbled back. He would have spilt the potion all over the ground had it not been for his quick reflexes.

He had not expected the prince to turn over. He had not expected the prince to look so handsome. He had not expected himself to startle so easily.

He had not expected for his heart to race as his eyes settled on the prince’s face—on his well-defined jawline, on his long lashes and the moonlight they seemed to revel in, on his messy red locks. How could a mortal look so divine, only framed by the soft light of the moon? How could a mortal look so beautiful, so peaceful, so lovely?

How could Felix ruin the life of someone so seemingly harmless?

Despite Felix’s orders, despite that he’s never once disobeyed anyone he owed a favor to, he found himself unable to pour the potion over Sylvain. Instead, Felix clicked his tongue, capped the vial, tucking it in his pocket, and opened the window. He gave Sylvain one more glance before grimacing at himself.

 _Stop that,_ Felix scolded himself. _It’s just some mortal. Nothing special._ He unfolded his wings and flew out into the night, heading back to the heavens, back to Mount Olympus. However, his thoughts never strayed very far from Sylvain.

(Something about him felt familiar, like their souls had been tightly intertwined in another life. Felix shook this thought off, and instead tried to get the prince off his mind.)

-

Sylvain’s parents never listened to him.

He’d told them that he didn’t want anything to do with a kingdom that only relied on a superficial version of himself, something marketable and alluring. He’d told them that he wasn’t interested in being a political pawn, only alive to be married off for the gain of the family. He’d told them that he would marry who he wanted, who he truly loved, even if it took him the rest of his life to sort those who were just interested in his appearance or his wealth away from those who genuine loved him.

But they simply never listened.

Instead, they arranged a meeting with the legendary twin oracles, Byleth and Beleth, to get a reading done of who Sylvain would marry. Sylvain supposed that it was so that his parents could locate who this person was and force them to get to know each other. Just another part of his life—being told what to do and being expected to shut up, wear a polite smile, and just do it.

The twins said very little to the Gautiers, instead relying on prayer to the gods and hushed conversations with one another. It was a little unnerving, especially since it seemed that their facial expressions hardly changed. It was pretty frustrating too, considering that it meant that reading their expression and trying to guess the nature of Sylvain’s fate.

Finally, the twins turned to the Gautiers.

“What is to become of our son?” asked Sylvain’s mother, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“What is his wife like?” asked Sylvain’s father, blunt as always.

“Prince Sylvain,” Oracle Byleth said, and what followed felt like a death sentence. “Your future spouse is no wight of human seed, but serpent dire and fierce as may be thought.”

Oracle Beleth nodded. “No man, nor woman, shall have you. Instead, it will be one who flies with wings above in starry skies and doth subdue each thing with fiery flight.”

Sylvain’s mother gasped. Sylvain felt his body go cold. It was like the world had pulled the rug out from beneath him, leaving him plummeting towards the ground.

He was to be wed to a nonhuman beast? Why couldn't he just settle down with someone who loved him for who he truly was? Why couldn't he fall in love without the pressure of his parents? Why couldn't he just live the way he wants and be _happy_ for once? SWhen Sylvain was younger, he speculated that his life would end in tragedy; now, he couldn't imagine his life ending any other way.

As if it wasn’t bad enough, the oracles continued to speak of his future spouse. Their quips were not in unison, but their speech was perfectly synced, as if they knew each other so well that they could predict what would be said.

“Prince Sylvain, your fate awaits. A grim—”

“—and horrible spirit—”

“—awaits you, no later than—”

“—tomorrow.”

And in unison, the oracles finally announced, “Atop a rocky mountain.”

Sylvain’s mother’s grip tightened on Sylvain’s shoulder. It was a call back to the earth, grounding him to reality. He’d received his fate from the oracles; he’d received his fate basically from the gods themselves.

 _Damn it,_ Sylvain thought to himself as he shut his eyes and shut out the sound of his mother trying to stifle her sobs while his father argued loudly with the twins. _Damn it all! Will I ever get to be happy? Am I damned to tragedy?_

Memories of his childhood haunted him. Memories where his older brother would relentlessly bully him for being the favorite—for being more attractive, for being smarter, for being more obedient and noble and princelike and _perfect._ Even as he lamented his own tragic fate, he couldn’t help but to feel as though he had no right to mourn his future; after all, his very existence stripped his brother of his birthright to the throne, stripped his brother of love and care. How was it that even when Sylvain’s future is being destroyed before him, he couldn’t properly mourn for himself?

No matter how much Sylvain’s father yelled at the oracles, forced them to read Sylvain’s fate over and over, the oracles repeated the same fate. Verbatim. All delivered with that blank expression on both of their faces.

They did, however, claimed that Sylvain was to be dressed in dark, mourning garments when he was left upon the rocky mountaintop where his future spouse would come and fetch him. Other than that, they refused to say anything more, though their expression did change slightly as Sylvain bowed politely and thanked them for their work before he left.

They looked sad.

Sylvain didn’t like the look of that.

-

His parents wouldn’t listen to him, but they would listen to the gods. Even if it meant sacrificing their only heir to a monstrous creature.

Following the words of the oracles, Sylvain was dressed in the dark, funerary garments that were finely sewn together with a clasp with the Gautier emblem that held his cape up. His parents and the staff at the palace followed him up to the craggy mountain’s peak, all dressed similarly in dark colors and formal clothing. They were silent, save for his mother’s stifled sobs.

Before the king and queen left Sylvain up at the mountaintop, his mother promised that Sylvain would be alright, and she promised repeatedly that she loved him, tears lining her eyes. She hugged him tightly, and Sylvain smiled bittersweetly at her.

His father said little. He eyed Sylvain, gave him a small lecture about how great Sylvain was to the Gautier bloodline that seemed more performative than it did genuine, and offered his own stiff hug.

When he was finally left all alone, Sylvain felt a well of betrayal and despair wash over his heart. How could the gods condemn him to such a fate? How could they let him spend a majority of his childhood cowering in fear and finally liberate him from his brother’s abuse, only to deny him a life of true love and joy? How could they hurt Sylvain like this? It just wasn’t fair!

 _But,_ Sylvain supposed, _life isn’t fair. It never had been, and it never will be. Why am I surprised?_

Sylvain paced impatiently along the path of the mountain, waiting for this supposed winged beast to fetch him and wed him. Sylvain tried not to imagine what this beast looked like, shutting his eyes tightly—yet, thoughts of a feral monstrosity with clawed paws and sharp-toothed maws haunted him. These thoughts only made Sylvain pace faster, trying to retain his composure and his sanity.

He should have been looking where he was pacing.

Sylvain’s foot slipped just over the edge of the cliff, and he lurched forward with a yelp. He fell over the side of the mountain, plunged into the darkness where he saw countless jagged rocks quickly approaching. Perhaps it was better like this. Perhaps it was better to die than to suffer through a marriage to a monster.

Sylvain clenched his eyes shut and waited for the agony, waited for the end.

Yet, nothing happened.

Sylvain peeked an eye open and found a ginger woman floating in the air beside him, watching him curiously. Sylvain casted his gaze around. Was he dead? How was he suspended in the air like this? How hadn’t he plummeted into the ground and died?

“Are you alright?” asked the woman. At Sylvain’s hesitant nod, she let out a loud sigh of relief, one that practically wracks her entire body. She slumps forward exaggeratedly before springing back up. “Oh, I’m so glad that I was just in time! Hey! That was really careless of you, you know!”

Sylvain blinked. “What happened? Who are you?”

The woman smiled. “I’m Annette. Most mortals know me as the West Wind. I was just by wandering around here when I saw you falling!” Annette puffed her chest out. “But don’t worry! I caught you!”

“The West Wind?”

"Yes. I am the wind.” With a small wave of her hand, Sylvain felt a burst of air lift him higher into the air. Sylvain’s heart leaps up into his throat, waiting for the moment that she would drop him. He waited for the wind to subside, for the fall to his death.

It never came. Instead, the wind continued to hold him, suspended in the air, and Annette floated around in the air, looking quite relaxed. She smiled at him, and as if she’d read his mind, informed him, “Worry not! I won’t let you fall.”

Sylvain flashed her a smile back. “My! Well, thank you for catching me. What a blessing, being cared for by such a powerful and lovely lady!” He reminded himself quickly that he was to be married soon—no more pointless flirting was necessary.

He also reminded himself that he was going to be trapped in a loveless marriage. Would it really hurt him all that much if he just flirted a little? Maybe Annette could give him a way out of this.

(He doubted it.)

Her cheeks flushed briefly before she continued the conversation. “What is a prince like you doing waiting up on the mountains all alone?” Annette casted her gaze up to the mountaintop. “I hardly see people up here, nevertheless members of the royal family!”

Sylvain forced his smile to stay on his face. “I’m getting married.”

Annette gasped, and with this sudden burst of emotion, the wind around them intensified. Sylvain’s hair wildly whipped around in the wind, and Sylvain barely managed to grab his crown before it flew off.

“A wedding? Oh, how exciting!” She clapped her hands. “Congratulations!” Her smile faltered a little. “But were you holding your wedding up there?” She pointed at the mountaintop. “Seems like a bit of an odd place for a wedding.”

“I didn’t get a say.”

"Really?" Annette hummed, furrowing her brows. “You know, this reminds me. I know someone who’s having a wedding today as well. And he asked me to bring someone to him.” She gasped, her eyes widening. “Oh, that must be you then!”

"You’ve met him?” Sylvain stared at her, surprised. “Who is he? What is he like?”

Annette rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “Well, I don’t really know.” Sylvain raised his eyebrow at her. She held her hands up. “I haven’t actually seen him. I only heard his voice. I was simply asked to bring you to this place. Sorry.” She smiled. “On the bright side, it’s a lot prettier than these ugly rocks.”

Sylvain nodded. If Annette didn’t know about his future spouse, he knew that pushing that topic would only be futile. “I appreciate you helping me anyway. Will you take me there?”

"Of course!”

Annette reared her arms back before pushing out towards Sylvain. A gust of wind carried him away from the rocky mountains, from the waving and smiling Annette, from his old life. The wind—like a cradle, like a mother’s warm embrace—gently rocked him to and fro as the world around him changed with every movement. The dark and rocky mountaintops faded into the distance; a colorful and lively meadow, filled with all sorts of wildlife and surrounded by a rich forest, became visible.

But Sylvain’s attention was more focused on the magnificent palace that lied with in the center of the rich meadow and the forest.

This palace, far, far away from his home, was positively heavenly. Its silver walls practically glittered in the sun; its many, golden columns stood proudly in the sun; its stairs tempted Sylvain, as if calling him into the building. He could see the jeweled mosaic floors of the palace as the wind pulled him closer. It was a palace so splendid that it felt like it could touch the sky and lure down the heavens, a palace so lovely even the gods would have marveled at its beauty.

The wind placed Sylvain on a soft flowerbed, on a bed of the sweetest and most fragrant flowers. Through the wind, he heard Annette’s voice, happily bidding him farewell and congratulating him on his marriage once more. The voice faded, and the wind danced up into the sky and returned back to normal.

Sylvain stood up out of the flower bed and took a few steps towards the palace.

 _If I’m marrying some terrible beast, at least I’m spending the rest of my life in a nice palace_ , Sylvain joked to himself, though it did very little to ease his feelings.

-

There was no monster in the palace. Instead, there were many servants scurrying around. They greeted Sylvain with great reverence, though they were unable to lead him to his beastly husband-to-be. Instead, they led Sylvain into a grand dining area with a table all set, delicious foods sitting on the table.

"Make yourself at home.”

It was a voice he hadn’t heard before. It must have been the owner of the palace. Sylvain instinctively looked around, but there was no one but servants around. They seemed to have heard the voice as well, but they did not react in any extraordinary way.

Sylvain sat at the table and let the servants pamper him, listening to the beautiful singing accompanied by a lyre. The meals were delicious—they main dish was one of his favorites, a famous dish from the Gautieron lands, which only made him miss his home. While he was not always happy with his family, he couldn’t deny that he missed the safety and certainty of living in his home.

After dinner, servants presented him with gifts. The gifts reminded him of things that his suitors used to bring him, but the quality was unmatched—a lance of pure silver and gold that was blessed by the gods themselves, a large bouquet of the most beautiful flowers that were supposedly picked from divine gardens, a leather-bound book with golden pages and the most elegant lettering used to write Sylvain’s favorite fables and stories, and so on.

Sure, he was pleased with the gifts, and yes, he enjoyed dinner, but he still felt apprehension about his fiancé. After all the oracles had said about him, Sylvain could only imagine what kind of hellish creature he was to be wed to—but, if the master of the palace had arranged all of this, how could he be as vile as the oracles claimed?

He kept his guard up regardless.

By the end of the night, the servants led Sylvain to his bedroom, a room he would share with the beast. He opened the door slowly, expecting a fiendish monster to be there waiting for him. Instead, he found nothing. The room was pitch-black, even with the window letting in moonlight.

"Come in, Sylvain.”

Sylvain jumped at the voice. He wasn’t expecting someone to speak, nevertheless speak his name. He slowly made his way into the room. The door shut behind him, closing out what little light the well-lit halls were letting in.

It was silent. Sylvain couldn’t see anything, but he felt a hand take his, leading him towards the bed. Sylvain climbed atop the bed and waited warily, but after a while, Sylvain relaxed a little. The beast had no made any move to try and bed him, instead simply holding onto his hand.

It felt like a calloused human hand. Sylvain subtly ran his thumb over his lover’s hand, but he found no disheveled fur, no scales, nothing but a warm hand. There were no pointy claws, no slime, no eternally burning hellfire. It was just a hand.

His lover gave a small exhale through his nose—did he have a nose?

He sounded amused. “You’re confused,” he pointed out needlessly. Sylvain looked down at where their hands met, as if he could see the details better despite the heavy darkness around them.

“I was under the assumption that I was marrying some terrible beast.”

“You are. Are you disappointed?”

“You don’t seem like some terrible beast.” Sylvain chuckled. “But even if you are, I don’t think that I could be any less disappointed, knowing that you at least have some humanlike parts to you.” He paused. “So won’t you let me see you then?”

"No,” came the sharp response. “You must not, under any circumstance, see at me.”

"Why not?”

The voice did not respond. Perhaps the beast Sylvain was marrying was a Medusa-like gorgon, one that would kill him if he ever saw him. Perhaps the beast was doing this to protect him. He could believe it—this beast has been nothing but hospitable towards him.

Sylvain let go of the beast’s hand. “So then, Beast, what should I call you?”

“You’re free to call me whatever you want.”

"You have a name, don’t you?”

The beast hesitates. “Felix.”

“Felix, huh? Not a very beastly name.” Sylvain grinned a little.

Felix let out another amused huff. “Nothing I can do about it. But I want to tell you—this palace is now as much yours as it is mine.”

Sylvain wondered how his spouse could be so kind, how he could be so thoughtful and even a little playful. Had the oracles been wrong about Sylvain marrying someone wretched? But why had they given him such a sad look?

-

Each day, Sylvain woke up in the bedroom alone. Each night, he went to bed beside Felix, always painfully curious as to what he looked like. Always curious to see the face behind the kindness and deadpan jokes. Sometimes, Felix would spend a day with him, but he would be invisible, cloaked in some sort of spell.

But regardless, Sylvain slowly fell in love with Felix. He fell in love with his stoic nature, with his secret soft side, with his voice, with his hands, with his kindness and intellect and skills. He fell in love with the way that Felix was always kind to him, always watching out for him, always honest, even if it meant being a little brusque at times. He never did anything that Sylvain didn't want him to.

He was a lot better than the superficial suitors who came to try and woo him into a marriage rather than a night together. Perhaps it was because Felix seemed infinitely wealthier than the Gautiers and didn’t feel the urge to have to marry into royalty.

Over the span of a few months, Sylvain found himself fond of Felix despite never having seen him. It felt like they understood each other on a spiritual level, as if they’d known each other throughout their lives. It felt like Sylvain was being reunited with his other half, with someone who loved him and understood him like no one had ever done before.

But still, Sylvain missed his friends. And when he expressed this sentiment, Felix always grew quiet.

“I feel like I can only ever talk to you or the servants.” Sylvain paused. “Not that that’s a bad thing. I just miss having a social life.”

Felix remained silent.

“I guess you wouldn’t understand because you’re always busy doing sword stuff,” Sylvain joked, and Felix gave a small huff of amusement, “and you’re always here with me. But I just miss having my friends around to talk with.”

“I see.”

Sylvain reached into the darkness and took Felix’s hands. “Don’t take that personally, sweetheart.” He winked at Felix, knowing that Felix could see him. After all, Felix had ever so slightly lifted the darkness in the room after Sylvain had convinced him to. Now Sylvain could see Felix’s lovely, tawny eyes, though he couldn’t see the rest of his face.

“I won’t.”

Sylvain hummed. “But I guess that I could just tell them that I missed them. I feel like I didn’t have enough time to really tell them goodbye.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Isn’t it?” Sylvain shrugged. “Well, I guess that’s enough complaining from me.”

“Don’t shut yourself up like that. I… don’t mind hearing you complain. You know that.”

Sylvain laughed and squeezed Felix’s hands. “I know, I know. I’m just tired.”

“Ah. Then goodnight.”

To Sylvain’s surprise, the following week, he and Felix had guests—well, he had guests. Felix was out doing whatever business he had to tend to that day. His guests were none other than his friends, the ones that he had been talking about with Felix.

“Sylvain!” Hilda, stepped into the palace, giving him a tight hug, and looked around. “Wow, nice place you got here. And look at these servants! I bet you don’t have to lift a finger around here, huh?”

"Hey, Sylvain.” Claude grinned and gave Sylvain a hug before giving him a slap on the back. “It’s been a while, huh?”

"How’d you two even get here?” Sylvain asked, following his friends into the palace with Hilda leading the way. Hilda, in the middle of gushing about the handmade crafts adorning the halls of the palace, turned to face him.

"Well, we were called to the peak of some mountain.” Hilda shrugged. “I was told that my brother was going to be there, which was pretty odd considering that he’s never asked to meet on a sketchy mountain before.” She huffed. “Gods, climbing that thing was terrible!”

"And I was called up there too so I went with Hilda.” Claude didn’t elaborate on why he was called up to the mountaintop, but neither Hilda nor Sylvain really expected him to. Always a man of mystery. “Anyway, there was this girl, Annette, and she sent us here.”

“Annette?” Sylvain blinked. “The West Wind?”

“Yeah! Her!” Hilda beamed. “Oh, she’s a such a little sweetheart.”

Claude grinned too. “She was singing this cute, little song when we got up there. Didn’t like it that we heard her though.”

Sylvain thought back to when Annette carried him down to Felix’s palace. Annette had acted under Felix’s orders then too. Perhaps Felix had asked Annette to bring Hilda and Claude here after hearing him complain. Sylvain suppressed the warm smile on his face, making a mental note to thank Felix after his friends’ visit.

They spend the day together in the gardens, served tea and treats. Hilda and Claude gave him a brief overview of the Gautieron kingdom—his parents were scrambling to find a suitable, blood-related heir—and their own lives—Hilda was still running a handmade accessories shop and Claude was still doing whatever it is that he did when he wasn’t hanging around Hilda’s shop and helping out.

They seemed more interested in hearing about Sylvain’s life, and Sylvain was more than happy to oblige them. After all, he’d spent months with a beast whose face he’d never seen, and he had fallen in love with this beast. He told them all about Felix’s kindness, his easily embarrassed temperament especially when Sylvain said anything flirty, his excellence in swordsmanship and even about what he could make of Felix’s appearance.

Hilda and Claude were thoroughly interested by Felix, though they seemed to have the same trepidation that Sylvain did when he first met Felix.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Hilda asked, setting her cup of tea on the saucer. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m sure he’s a nice guy, and I don’t doubt that you love him, but…”

“There’s always the chance that he’s trying to deceive you,” Claude continued. “He _is_ a beast, isn’t he?”

Sylvain smiled at them. “I don’t think he’s trying to. I don’t see why he’d want to.”

Hilda and Claude shared a look.

“Okay, I can kind of see why he’d want to,” Sylvain amended with a frown. “But he hasn’t done anything bad to me so far.”

“Isn’t taking you away from your family and forcing you to marry him kind of bad?”

"Wh—Claude!” Hilda kicked Claude underneath the table. 

“Ow! Hey! I’m just saying!” Claude hissed in pain, rubbing his shin. "Hilda, for someone so 'delicate,' you have one of the most vicious kicks I've ever felt."

Sylvain looked down at his tea as Hilda and Claude bickered. Had he really been so immersed in his time with Felix that he forgot about how he had ended up here? Even though he and Felix had shared so much information with one another, had spent all this time together, Sylvain couldn’t really tell why he was here. Felix hadn’t explicitly said anything about loving him. So there was the chance that he could be planning something.

But what?

"Well, what should I do?” Sylvain asked, looking up.

Hilda and Claude, in the middle of throwing some of the baked treats at each other like a pair of quarreling children, froze and looked at Sylvain.

“Hmm… You could always figure out what he wants,” Hilda started, “but I doubt that he’s just going to come out and tell you.” She shot Claude a look out of the corner of her eye. “But what if he really does just love you and is weird about it?”

“Come on, Sylvain. Do you really trust a beast that you can’t even see? I thought you were more careful about guarding your heart.” Claude took a sip of his tea. “Maybe you should just kill him before he tries to kill you.”

Sylvain nearly spat out his own tea. “You think I should what?”

Claude held up his hands. “Hey, just a suggestion. I mean, like Hilda said, it’s not likely that he’d come out and just say what he wants so maybe you could just…” Claude gestured vaguely in the air. “Hold him at knifepoint? Interrogate him? You don’t have to kill him—unless, y’know, he’s actually dangerous.”

Hilda gave Claude a look.

"Wait, don’t kick me again. My shins can only handle so much.” Claude turned to Sylvain. “Hey, didn’t the Eisner twins tell you that your husband is some kind of serpent? Shouldn’t that be some kind of red flag?”

“You kind of have a point there. Snakes _are_ known for their dishonesty,” Hilda reluctantly agreed. “And the Eisner twins aren’t ever wrong about what they say.”

“Exactly!” Claude’s usually relaxed expression became more stern. “Sylvain, be careful here.” Hilda nodded along in agreement. “You don’t know what he’s planning.”

Sylvain felt his heart sink into his stomach.

He was finally happy for once in his life, finally loved deeply by someone he himself loved back—or so he thought. Had he truly been blinded this whole time by his desperation? Had he truly ignored warning signs?

It all hurt so much.

-

Sylvain’s thoughts had revolved around what Claude and Hilda had speculated. For days and days, he couldn’t bring himself to wholeheartedly trust Felix. Even as these terrible thoughts and anxiety plagued him, though, Sylvain was still an actor at heart, always used to putting on smiles and niceties. He pretended like everything was okay, and Felix never suspected anything was wrong—or, if he did, he didn’t remark on it.

One night, Sylvain finally mustered the courage to follow through with what Claude had recommended. He didn’t think that he could kill Felix unless Felix viciously attacked him first, but he wanted to be cautious.

After Felix had fallen asleep, Sylvain quietly snuck out of the bedroom and secured himself a lamp that he had hidden a few hour prior. He also brought along his dagger, a dagger that Felix had supposedly asked the best blacksmith, in all the heavens, to make for Sylvain. Guilt wracked him briefly, but he lit the candle and crept into the room.

Surprisingly, when Felix was asleep, the thick darkness faded away, leaving the room to be lit normally by the lamp in Sylvain’s hand and the moonlight spilling through the window.

Sylvain crept forward. Every step, every echo of his footstep against the marble flooring and the luxurious rug, ran a chill down Sylvain’s back. He approached the bed on Felix’s side and raise the lamp.

What he saw shocked him to his core.

There, lying in Felix and Sylvain’s bed, was no creature, no grotesque being. Instead, it was the most beautiful man that Sylvain had ever laid eyes on. A man with fair skin, with long and soft blue hair that was sprawled out along the pillow. A man with a lithe frame and large, white wings, with long lashes and an elaborate chiton draped around his body.

This was Felix? This was the supposed beast he was married to? This was who he, Claude, and Hilda were worried about? Sylvain felt nothing but utter relief and joy. His husband was no terrible monster; he was a gods-sent beauty.

But Sylvain should have been more aware of his surroundings.

A drop of oil from his lamp fell and landed on Felix’s shoulder.

Felix jumped awake, rubbing his burning shoulder, and looked over at Sylvain.

The amount of hurt, of betrayal, in Felix’s eyes froze Sylvain in his tracks. Felix’s eyes flicked from the lamp to the dagger in Sylvain’s hand to Sylvain’s shocked face. Felix furrowed his brows.

Sylvain immediately dropped the dagger and reached out for Felix with his hand. “Felix.”

Felix didn’t reply to him, backing away from Sylvain. That hurt look in his eyes burned to a hateful look.

“Felix, wait! I-I—”

Without a word, Felix got off the bed and flung open the window.

“Please!” Sylvain hurried after him, grabbing his wrist. “I promise it isn’t what it looks like.”

Felix wrenched his hand away from Sylvain, climbed upon the windowsill, and fled without a word. Sylvain watched from the window as Felix’s figure flew away into the night sky, until he was no longer visible.

-

Sylvain searched and searched for Felix all night, feeling red hot self-hatred well up in his body. Felix had trusted him, had given him a beautiful home to live in, had given a part of himself to him, and Sylvain betrayed him. He searched outside the palace in the meadow and in the forest, but Felix was nowhere to be seen.

When he tried to return to the palace to get some rest before starting out on his search again, he was shocked to find that the palace had disappeared.

Desperate for any chance of finding Felix, his lost love, Sylvain traveled on foot to the nearest temple of love. He had little to offer but his prayers. So he prayed and prayed to Lorenz, the god of love and nobility. He poured all his thoughts and guilt into his prayer, until he felt hot tears prick at his eyes.

“Oh, if it isn’t the ever-beloved Gautier heir.”

Sylvain looked up and found Lorenz sitting on the pedestal of the statue dedicated to him. Lorenz uncrossed his legs and stepped down from the pedestal, taking a few steps towards Sylvain.

“Please help me.” Sylvain grimaced at himself. “I did something stupid.”

Lorenz chuckled. “Yes, yes. I am well aware.” He put a hand on his hip. “Unfortunately, I find that I am unable to help you.”

"What?” Sylvain furrowed his brows. “You’re the god of love. I’m in love. Help me.”

“And how do you suppose I am to help you?”

“Bring me to Felix. I have to apologize.” Sylvain averted his gaze. “I betrayed his trust, and…”

Lorenz looked unamused. “My apologies, but I find myself in disbelief that you are truly apologetic or in love. How can someone in love threaten to kill the one he loves?”

“It’s not like that!” Lorenz looked shocked at Sylvain’s sudden outburst. Sylvain sheepishly shrunk down, keeping his gaze trained on the marble ground. “Sorry. I just…”

“How about this? If you can finish my quest and prove that you truly love Felix, then I will bring him to you.”

Sylvain nodded. “Anything—I’ll do anything. Please.”

Lorenz snapped his fingers, and a mountain of mixed grains—of wheat, barley, poppyseed, chickpeas, lentils, beans—appeared before Sylvain. Sylvain stared in awe.

“I’d like you to sort these grains into separate piles by dawn.”

“Dawn? But that’s—”

“Impossible? Hmm, perhaps your devotion falls short then.” Lorenz turned his back on Sylvain. “Then I will be going. I have more important matters to tend to.”

“No!” Sylvain blurted. He settled himself in front of the pile. “I’ll get it done.”

Lorenz shrugged and disappeared with a flip over his long hair over his shoulder. Sylvain despaired, looking at the pile of mixed grains and started to slowly sort the pile to the best of his ability. He cursed himself—cursed his slow human hands and his imperfect human eyes. He cursed himself for ever doubting Felix. 

Meanwhile, Felix and Lorenz watched Sylvain from Lorenz’s palace. A crystal orb sat on a luxurious cushion before them, showing Sylvain painstakingly sorting through the pile and growing evermore frustrated with each passing hour.

Felix didn’t speak, didn’t let his gaze stray from Sylvain’s image on the orb. Lorenz didn’t even try to prompt a reply from Felix, practically feeling the emotional hurt radiating off of him. Lorenz didn’t blame him. He wasn’t the fondest of the Gautier boy, but he could tell that Felix truly loved him until he broke their agreement that Felix would stay unseen.

After a few hours, they watched an ant sneak into the temple, grabbing a grain. Sylvain spotted the ant and gently picked up the grain, saying that he needed it and that if Lorenz let him, he’d hand it back to him.

The ant respected that Sylvain didn’t try to crush him even though it was trying to steal the grain from him, and it pitied him for having such a herculean task to complete on his own. The ant snuck out of the temple and returned with the rest of his army, helping Sylvain sort through the pile.

In no time at all, the army of ants and Sylvain had managed to separate the grains, and Sylvain sat happily before his work.

-

The following morning, Lorenz appeared before Sylvain with a frown.

“I did it!” Sylvain gestured at the piles. “They’re sorted. Will you let me see Felix now?”

Lorenz shook his head. “You had help.” Sylvain flinched the slightest bit. “Now, Sylvain, you know that lying is ignoble—and claiming credit when others have clearly helped you is rather ignoble as well!” He crossed his arms. “How about another trial then?”

Sylvain sighed. “I suppose you’re right.” He nodded. “Then I’ll complete another trial.”

Lorenz held out the palm of his hand. A purple wisp appeared in his palm. “There are these special sheep, whose wool is made of pure gold, across the Gaspard river.” The wisp in his hands revealed a herd of sheep grazing near a large river. “Your task is to bring me some of their wool.”

Sylvain shrugged. “Gathering wool from some sheep? Doesn’t seem that hard,” he commented with a small grin. “I’ll do it.”

Sylvain left the temple and headed to the nearby Gaspard river. He crossed the river, using the large bridge built there by the nearby villagers, but he found himself in the face of danger almost immediately.

The sheep were no ordinarily sheep. Their wool gleamed beautifully in the sunlight, flaxen gold that glimmered all over their bodies. However, their horns were unusually sharp, and they were unusually aggressive, charging at Sylvain when he got close. Sylvain narrowly dodged having the sheep run him through. Had he not been trained as a child, his reflexes would have been too slow, and he might have lain there, bleeding out.

After being chased around by these hostile sheep and getting pricked a few times by their sharp horns, Sylvain rests on grass, sitting on the opposite side of the river bank. Frustrated, Sylvain wondered if he should have brought along his lance, but he remembered that it had been in the palace, gone with Felix.

Yearning and guilt knock the breath of him at that moment. Would he ever get to meet Felix again? Would he ever get the chance to apologize, apologize with all of his heart, and tell him that he loved him? If only Sylvian had trusted Felix not to hurt him as Felix trusted him, he wouldn’t have gotten himself into this situation.

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a heavy sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

Sylvain jumped.

Barely peeking out over the river bank, a freckled face curiously watched him. When he meets Sylvain’s eyes, the person smiles kindly. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.” He pulls himself up onto the river bank beside Sylvain. Dressed in divine clothes that glitter and glow, the male appears to be a minor deity of some sort.

"Who are you?”

“I’m Ashe, god of the Gaspard River.” Ashe cocked his head. “Won’t you tell me what ails you?”

Sylvain figured that he might as well indulge the god. It wouldn’t do him well to upset a god, after all. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt him to vent his frustrations. “Well, I’m just having trouble getting some wool from those sheep.” Sylvain pointed out towards the sheep.

Ashe followed his gaze and nodded sagely. “Ah. They’re cute, but they _are_ rather pugnacious little things, aren’t they?” He chuckled. “But there is a trick to getting their wool, you know?"

“Oh, is there?” Sylvain treaded carefully. He didn’t want to risk having the god gather the wool for him; that would only invalidate his work in Lorenz’s eyes. “Would you tell me what it is?”

Ashe beamed, a knowing glint in his olive-colored eyes. “It’s quite simple, really. All you have to do is wait until they are asleep. Around midday, they'll seek shade and take a nap around that tree.” Ashe gestured at a large tree. Already a few sheep were napping there. “I’d recommend that you wait until they are all asleep. If a few are still awake, they might try to get at you.”

Sylvain nodded. “Sounds reasonable enough.”

So he and Ashe spent the rest of the morning talking until the sheep would fall asleep. Ashe was a kind god, telling him a few stories about his godhood, about his time as the guardian of the river, about how he liked to come up and greet mortals. Sylvain felt his stress melt away as he spoke with Ashe.

When the sheep all gathered under the tree for a midday nap, Ashe nudged Sylvain onto his feet. He pressed a pair of shears into his hands and smiled.

“Go on. It should be safe now.”

Sylvain grinned. “Thanks so much, Ashe.”

Ashe flashed him another kind smile before diving back into the river. Sylvain could still feel Ashe’s curious eyes on his back, as if Ashe were watching him by peeking over the river bank again.

Sylvain slowly neared the sheep, half-expecting one to spring up and puncture him with its horns. But none of them stirred. Sylvain used Ashe’s shears to remove an armful of golden wool. He returned Ashe’s shears to the god with a gleeful word of thanks before hurrying back to Lorenz’s temple, where he was sitting up on the pedestal once more.

“Here.” Sylvain dropped the wool to the ground. “The golden wool from those violent sheep. Can I _please_ just talk to Felix now?”

Lorenz eyed the wool, ran his fingers through it, and looked up at Sylvain. “You’ve had help again.”

“What?”

Lorenz shook his head. “You cannot fool me. That river god helped you.”

Sylvain grimaced.

Lorenz sighed. “If you cannot independently complete a task as you promised, how can you expect me to believe that you truly hold best wishes in your heart?”

“Give me another chance,” Sylvain pleaded. “I’ll do this as many times as I need to. I just need to apologize to Felix.”

Lorenz clicked his tongue. “How about this then? You are to bring me a cup of water from the river Styx. I will accompany you to make sure you do this alone.” Upon hearing Sylvain’s assent, Lorenz transported them both to the River Styx. Lorenz handed a clay cup to Sylvain and waited with his arms regally tucked behind his back. “Begin.”

Sylvain peeked over the edge of the mountain to look down at the mountain.

“Isn’t this a little cruel?”

“Complaining is not very becoming of a noble, nevertheless a world-renowned prince.”

Sylvain sighed and waved away Lorenz’s lecture. “Alright, alright. I’ll do my best then.”

But before Sylvain could do anything, an eagle, sent down by the almighty Sothis, most powerful of all the deities, snatched the cup out of Sylvain’s hand. Sylvain watched as the eagle plummeted down to the river. It filled the cup up to the brim with water from the river before placing the cup back in Sylvain’s hand. The eagle cried out and flew back up into the heavens.

Holding the cup, now full of water from the River Styx, Sylvain silently turned to Lorenz, who wore the same shocked expression as him.

After a long silence between the both of them, Lorenz finally cleared his throat and regained his composure enough to say, “I do not think that counts.”

Sylvain sighed again. “Then another trial.”

“I’m tired of these trials, Sylvain.”

“Then stop assigning them to me and just help me see Felix already.”

“You expect me to believe that you have any semblance of nobility or unconditionally love in your body when you have not come close to proving yourself?” Lorenz crossed his arms and let out a sigh when he saw the hurt look on Sylvain. “Oh, fine. Here is my final—and, I cannot stress this enough, _final_!—trial. If you unable to complete this one, I will not grant your wish to see Felix.”

Sylvain tensed up but gave a terse nod.

“All I want you to do is bring me a box from the underworld—Dorothea’s box, to be precise. I want it unopened and the elixir of beauty within unopened.”

“The—you want me to go into the underworld?” Sylvain felt frustration bubble up in his body. This wasn’t fair. No mortal could simply enter the underworld, the land of shades. If he wanted to go in, he would have to die.

“You are innovative. I’m sure you will find a way.” With that Lorenz disappeared into thin air, leaving a despairing Sylvain in his wake.

-

If the only way that Sylvain could get to the underworld was by dying, if the only way to meet with Felix once again was to die and complete Lorenz’s impossible task, then Sylvain was willing to give it a try.

He had climbed a high tower with the intention of throwing himself off. He had offered a prayer for the Edelgard, the god of the underworld, to receive his soul well before peering over the edge of the tower.

“Wait! Please, wait!”

Sylvain looked around and found no one around him. He peered over the edge of the tower once again, taking a deep breath.

“There is a better way of going about this!”

Sylvain hesitated.

“I have seen people enter the underworld before. I have seen mortals enter the realm of the dead and come back unscathed.” 

Sylvain furrowed his brows. That is something that had gone against what he and all the other children of the living world had been taught. “What? How is that possible?”

“There have been countless attempts to enter the underworld, but not everyone abides by the rules properly. If you follow the rules I present you perfectly, you should have no trouble completing your task.” The voice giggled. “Oh, how exciting! Shall I begin?”

Sylvain nodded. “Yes, please.”

“First, you must have two coins for the toll to the underworld—one going to the underworld and one leaving. Secondly, you must have three pieces of sweetbread—one for each head of Cerberus, the hellhound. Thirdly, you mustn’t eat anything, not even a seed!” The voice let out a soft chuckle again. “And with these three rules, you will be safe.”

Sylvain checked his pockets. While he had coins for the underworld fare, he did not have bread. He would have to go and secure some bread for Cerberus.

“Are you missing something?”

“I have coins. I just do not have bread.”

The voice hummed. “I do not mind sparing you some bread, if you’d like to take some. I do bake regularly.”

A disembodied voice, baking? Sylvain furrowed his brows. “Pardon my question, but just what are you?”

“I am simply a curious goddess, Mercedes. I found Lorenz’s challenge too harsh so I thought to help you. I am unable to appear before you in person so I have decided to instead speak with you.”

“I see. Well, I greatly appreciate your help, Mercedes. Thank you so, so much.”

“Of course!” She let out a soft sigh. “I’m just glad that I was just in time! Now, please take some of my bread for the cute puppy down in the underworld.”

Sylvain held out his hands unthinkingly, and three slices of warm bread, soaked in barley and honey, materialized in his hands. Sylvain smiled.

“You have no idea how much you’re helping me out here.”

“I like to think that I do. You have become something of infamous case here in Mount Olympus.” Mercedes chuckled. “Go forth, then, Sylvain.”

-

After paying to travel across the Styx and bribing Cerberus with Mercedes’s bread, Sylvain found himself entering the palace of Edelgard, where Edelgard was sitting upon her throne, reading some sort of document. Her wife, Dorothea who was seated beside her in an adjacent throne, looked up and spotted Sylvain.

"Oh? Hello, mortal.” Dorothea waved a hand casually.

"A mortal? Here?" Edelgard flicked her gaze up from her document, looked over Sylvain briefly, then returned her gaze to her document. "Hmm, very interesting."

“My! What a lovely pair of women.” Sylvain bowed at them and winked, hoping to woo them and get on their good side.

Unfortunately, it seemed that both of these women were immune to whatever charms Sylvain could possibly muster. Dorothea, at the very least, seemed rather amused with him as opposed to Edelgard's indifference.

“What brings you down here? You’re clearly not dead. Have you some business with my Edie?” Dorothea leaned towards Edelgard, who turned to her with a small smile.

“Unfortunately, I am not available to settle the matters of a mortal at this very moment. If you are willing to wait until I am finished, that would be preferable. Help yourself to some fruits, if you’d like.” Edelgard made a rising motion with her hand, and a stone pedestal sprouted out of the ground beside Sylvain. A bowl of fruits, ripe and alluring, sat atop it.

Remembering Mercedes’s advice regarding food in the underworld, Sylvain shook his head. “No thank you. I’m actually here for you, dear Dorothea.”

Edelgard looked up from her document once again, this time with a more stern expression on her face. Dorothea chuckled and patted Edelgard’s hand. “No worries, Edie."

Sylvain laughed good-naturedly. “Maybe I should word my thoughts a little more carefully.”

Edelgard slowly returned her gaze to her document, her cheeks looking pink from the way that Dorothea's teasingly laughing at her. “That would be wise, yes.”

“I am here to ask a favor of you, Dorothea.”

"Oh?” Dorothea leaned forward in her throne with a mischievous smile. “Is that so? Then, present me with your request, and I may just indulge you.” Upon hearing Sylvain’s story, Dorothea sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “Oh, that Lorenz,” she muttered.

Dorothea stepped down from her throne with another sigh and held out her hands. "Leave it to Lorenz to mess up a perfectly fine couple, all in the name of nobility." A red box, accented with green and black, appeared with a bright flash in her hands. She gave her hands a small thrust in Sylvain’s direction.

"Go on. Take it.” She offered a small smile.

Sylvain carefully took the box. 

“That box has what that stuck-up man wants.” She nodded at the box. “But be careful. You should _not_ open that. It isn’t meant for mortals.” 

Sylvain felt an unadulterated joy envelop his body. He had finished the trial, and all he had to do was present Lorenz with the box. Then, he could finally be reunited with Felix and explain himself. He tried to hide the smile on his face as he solemnly thanked Dorothea and Edelgard for their time and thanked Dorothea specifically for her cooperation.

-

As Sylvain waited in Lorenz’s temple for Lorenz to appear, he looked down at the box in his hands. He was curious about what she put in there. He hadn’t seen her put anything in there.

But the more he thought about it, the more concerned he got. Seeing Dorothea’s ire at Lorenz and the element of mystery surrounding the box only raised Sylvain’s suspicions. What if she had hidden something to punish or prank Lorenz in the box? He didn’t want to hand Lorenz a box with something that would offend him in it. It would stop him from his reunion with Felix.

Against all his rational thoughts and Dorothea’s warning, Sylvain opened the box.

As soon as the box was cracked open the slightest bit, a thick, purple cloud encompassed him. Sylvain coughed and choked and gagged, but even if he shut the box, the cloud lingered over him until Sylvain collapsed to the ground, still.

When Lorenz appeared at the palace, with Felix following closely behind, they were both expecting to find Sylvain standing there with the box that they would reconcile the couple. Instead, they were shocked to find Sylvain lying on the ground unconscious with the box lying on the ground. Felix hurried to Sylvain’s side.

“Sylvain? What’s wrong? Sylvain? Sylvain! Get up!” He shook Sylvain, but Sylvain’s body was limp and his eyes would not open. Felix gritted his teeth and pressed his fingers against Sylvain’s throat, waiting for a pulse. There was nothing.

Then, there was the faintest pulse. The slowest, weakest pulse that Felix had ever felt, but a pulse nonetheless.

Felix let out a breath of relief. “You idiot,” Felix huffed under his breath. “When someone tells you not to do something, why the hell would you do it?” He tucked Sylvain in closed to his chest and shut his eyes. His wings enveloped them, like a shield against the outside world.

"Oh, is he alright? That’s a relief!” Lorenz picked up the box. “Oh my. Linhardt?” Lorenz flicked open the box and picked out the tiny god, no bigger than a strawberry, by the scruff of his sleepwear.

“Linhardt?” Felix repeated. He let his wings down. “God of sleep?”

Linhardt yawned and wiped his eyes, looking up at Lorenz. He lazily raised an arm. “Oh. Hello there.” He looked over at Sylvain and Felix. “Hm. That doesn’t look very good.”

Felix fixed Linhardt with his harshest glare, one that rivaled the one he gave Sylvain on the night that they separated. “If you know what’s good for you,” Felix growled, “you’ll wake him up. Right now.”

Linhardt sheepishly averted his gaze. “Well, the thing is I can’t.”

Felix shut his eyes tightly and took in a deep breath. “Lorenz.”

“What?”

“Give me that little rat. I'm going to put that fool to eternal rest."

“What? No! I am _not_ going to indulge you in your terrible, animalistic urges.” Lorenz quickly flicked his gaze at Linhardt, who was starting to nod off again. "Linhardt, enough of your laziness. Wake up and address this issue." Lorenz shook Linhardt awake, and Linhardt grumbled.

Linhardt, seemingly uninterested, yawns. He continues right where he left off. “No, not really. The cloud of sleep that surrounds me while I sleep is pretty potent, especially to mortals. He is in a state of eternal sleep...”

“Eternal sleep?” Felix looked down at Sylvain. It was then that Felix realized how haggard Sylvain looked, covered in injuries and soot with bags under his eyes and disheveled hair. Had Sylvain really tried this hard just to be able to talk with Felix? Felix grimaced. “Sylvain! Sylvain, wake up!"

“What part of ‘eternal sleep’ don’t you understand?” Linhardt muttered. “He’s as good as dead. Let him rest.”

"Shut the hell up,” snarled Felix. “He’s not dead.” Felix held Sylvain tightly. “He can’t be.” No one in the temple missed how Felix’s words were tinged with soft regret, with concern.

“I’m sure that we can fix this,” Lorenz says, putting Linhardt back into the box despite Linhardt’s weak protests. “Since he isn’t dead yet, we don’t have to go to the underworld just yet. I suggest seeing the Goddess Sothis. She may have a remedy for this.”

Felix nodded briskly and scooped Sylvain into his arms. He wobbled a little before regaining his balance. He then walked towards the entrance of the temple before spreading his wings and taking flight, swiftly cutting through the air to get to Mount Olympus.

 _Sylvain_ , Felix thought as they flew through the air, _I didn’t know you were hurting like this. I’m sorry. I should have tried to talk this through with you, rather than just leave you there like a coward._

-

Felix barged through the doors of Sothis’s temple, ignoring the way that the angelic guards chase after him and shout at him. He made his way into the audience chamber, where Sothis was idly sitting upon her tall throne.

"Sothis!” Felix called, and Sothis looked down at him. He landed, but shortly after, guards stormed into the room and subdued Felix and Sylvain, aiming arrows and lances at them. Felix didn’t fight back, instead yelling, “Hear my plea!”

Sothis held up a hand, signaling the guards to back down. She floated down from her throne and stood before Felix.

“Speak, Felix, god of passion.”

Felix calmed himself down and looked down at Sylvain. “Sylvain, my husband, has been wrongly afflicted with eternal sleep.” He shut his eyes tightly. “Please, bring him back.”

“He is but a mere mortal,” Sothis mused. “Even if I bring him back to consciousness, you will outlive him.”

Felix gritted his teeth. “Please, Sothis.” He hated how there were people surrounding him, but if his words would convince Sothis to bring back the love of his life, Felix would lie his heart out for everyone to see without a shadow of a doubt. “Please, Sothis. I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone else.”

Sothis raised her eyebrows.

“I should have just talked to him. I shouldn’t have been so stubborn. I shouldn’t have just left him alone to suffer through all of this.” Felix gestured at Sylvain, who lied before the goddess. Her disinterest changed slightly when she took a better look at Sylvain.

“I was aware of this,” Sothis said slowly. “I knew that you two were going through trouble. I knew that Sylvain had been undergoing trials. But I had not anticipated that Sylvain would end up here.”

Felix ran a hand through Sylvain’s red locks and tried his best not to pay too much attention to Sylvain’s closed eyes and his expressionless face. “Please save him. I can’t let him just go like this. I need to make things right, and I’m sure he has things he wants to say to me as well.”

Sothis nodded. “Very well. I believe that you and Sylvain have proven yourselves—you both show an exceptional amount of will and love. I shall bring Sylvain back from his eternal sleep.”

Sothis knelt before Sylvain and pressed the tips of her fingers against Sylvain’s forehead. She shut her eyes, and a blue pulse of light shot from her fingers and spread throughout Sylvain’s body. She stood and took a step back.

A tense and heavy silence followed. Felix clung to the hope that nothing went wrong as he waited for Sylvain to open his eyes. But he didn’t.

He looked up at Sothis, her gaze unmoved. He trusted Sylvain to come back to him, trusted him with all his heart, and continued to wait.

And Sylvain’s eyes finally fluttered open. He gave a soft groan.

“Sylvain.” Felix couldn’t keep the relief out of his voice as he pulled the redhead into a hug. “What am I going to do with you? You—you fool!” He tightened his grip on Sylvain, trying to blink away the tears burning his eyes.

“Felix?” Sylvain chuckled weakly. “That’s you, right? Am I dead? Because I’m seeing an angel.” He nuzzled Felix. "A beautiful, perfect angel."

The tension in the room faded just as quick as it had come along. “That doesn’t work here. I literally look like an angel.” Nonetheless, Felix used one hand to cradle the back of Sylvain’s head, pulling him in closer. “Which I’m not. I’m a god.” Felix held Sylvain at arm’s length, and he felt his heart skip a beat when he saw Sylvain’s dopey smile in reply.

"A god, huh? That's news to me. But, oh, I’m so glad I can see you again.” Sylvain reached out a hand and cradled Felix’s cheek. “I have so much I wanted to say.”

"Hold your thoughts. Let me start.” Felix averted his gaze and took in a deep breath before meeting Sylvain’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I left you behind instead of talking to you. I’m sorry I tore you away from your family. I’m sorry I hid from you for so long.”

Sylvain blinked. “I… I didn’t think that you had anything to apologize for.” He smiled gently, warmly, softly. “At first, living with you was scary and depressing. I missed my friends and family, and I was scared you’d try to kill me. But you’d proved yourself to be such a soft and lovable person that I’ve grown to love you.”

Felix’s breath hitched in his throat.

"But I need to apologize. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I should’ve trusted you to come to me on your own, instead of trying to find out myself like that. Even if I was scared, I trusted you—you told me all about your life, even the parts you were hesitant to tell others. I hurt your trust.”

"And I don’t care anymore that you did. You were scared for your life, if what you’ve told me is true.” Felix pulled Sylvain into another hug and briefly pressed his lips to Sylvain’s cheek before burying his burning face in Sylvain’s shoulder.

Sylvain blinked in surprise before laughing and pulling away from Felix’s embrace to meet his lips. Sylvain caught a slight glimpse of Felix’s bright red face and smiled into their kiss. He pulled away to kiss Felix again and again, worried that his words wouldn’t be enough to show his love.

But Felix knew. He’d always known.

-

Sothis, upon seeing the true love and trust restored between Felix and Sylvain, granted Sylvain the gift of immortality by handing him a cup of ambrosia, and helped them to throw an official wedding ceremony. All the gods on Mount Olympus—including Lorenz, who was pleased that he no longer had to feel like compete with a mortal for the love of his human worshippers—attended the grand celebration, fit with beautiful music and beautiful decorations.

Everyone celebrated, but no one celebrated more than Sylvain and Felix, who were practically glued to each other’s sides and always looking at one another in lovestruck awe. All the gods rejoiced at the peace and the love in the air.

As legends have it, Sylvain and Felix were an inseparable pair, always bickering playfully and making loving remarks about one another. They were the happiest pair in all the land for all of eternity, bound together by love, trust, and a deep connection. 

And in another life, in all iterations of their lives, it was believed that Sylvain and Felix had the same kind of connection, inseparable and bound by fate, trust, love.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading!! 
> 
> I genuinely wanted to write a lot more for Sylvain week, but I kept missing the days. I still wanted to write for at least one of the days, and I thought that the AU prompt would be pretty fun to write! I've been holding on this idea for a bit, but I know it's not all that original. ^^;; It's a popular AU so I'm sure someone may have written for this one already, but I hope I don't seem like I'm copying them (●´⌓`●);;
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read my story! :)


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